


I'm Not Your Boyfriend

by zombiechick



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiechick/pseuds/zombiechick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara uses the Doctor's feelings of jealousy to get what she wants.  Rated E for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

DW12DW12DW12

Clara burst through the doors of the TARDIS, grinning like mad, and giggling just a bit.  She grabbed up the skirts of the red ball gown that she wore and did a small twirl around the TARDIS console.  

The Doctor entered a few moments later, more sedate than his giddy companion, eyeing her suspiciously, "You certainly seemed to enjoy the dancing," he stated.

Clara laughed and twirled around once again, "I can't remember the last time I've had that much fun," she admitted.

The Doctor glared, "Really."

Clara, ignoring the attack eyebrows that were targeting her, continued, "We came to this planet for the pudding, which you said was amazing, but you never mentioned how charming their prince is.  Or what amazing parties he throws."

"Never noticed," The Doctor replied as he began sullenly punching in coordinates.  "He's got quite a disgusting birthmark on his face, the prince," he grumped, watching Clara for a reaction.

"You mean that little mole?" she asked him.  "I thought it was quite manly, and the dimples, and his wavy black hair," she hummed to herself as she continued to dance lightly around the TARDIS.

"Would you mind getting your circulatory system under control?" the Doctor barked at her, "Your cheeks," he waved at her face, "they've gone all red; the blood flow is too great.  Likely, your head will burst."

Clara laughed at him, "Hmmmm," she sighed as she opened the door of the TARDIS and gazed out at the quickly retreating planet that they had just left, "it is nice to get that sort of attention from a man now and again; it's flattering."

"We could always return to the planet and you could accept his marriage proposal," the Doctor growled.

Clara waved aside his grumpiness, "Nope, don't think I'm ready to settle down just yet."  She bumped into the Doctor affectionately, reaching up on her toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, before hurrying down the hallway to her bedroom to change.

The Doctor rubbed at his cheek, smiling smugly to himself, as he watched her leave out of the corner of his eye. 

DW12DW12DW12  
Clara closed the door behind her, laughing quietly.  

She knew precisely what she was doing.  The Doctor only showed her any attention when he felt stirrings of jealousy.  

She saw no reason not to use that information to her advantage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working without a beta here. Forgive the mistakes. Does the TARDIS have a kitchen or a library? It does in my mind.

The Doctor found Clara in the kitchen, some hours later, eating a bowl of porridge. A large, steaming, mug of tea sat in front of her next to a small red flower in a vase that the Doctor had never seen before. "Where did that come from?" he asked while grabbing a mug out of the cupboard for himself.

Clara threw a mischievous look at the back of the Doctor's head, "The prince gave it to me. Said it would continue to bloom as long as I thought of him," she smiled at the flower.

The Doctor turned around sniffing, "Smells like it's beginning to rot."

She took a sip of her tea, looking at him over the rim of her mug, "I think it's a lovely thought."

The Doctor grumbled to himself as he prepared his tea, "It is awfully romantic," he agreed, "giving dead flowers to a girl; so original. Wish I had that kind of class."

Clara gave in to her laughter as the door closed behind him.

DW12DW12DW12

Clara lounged happily on the couch in the small library. The TARDIS had a lovely habit of projecting the feeling of a fireplace in the room. Consequently, Clara was cozy beneath a small blanket, busily reading a book of poetry that the Doctor had gifted her previous to his current regeneration.

He snuck in so quietly, that Clara actually jumped when the Doctor scooped up her feet and deposited them in his lap as he sat on the couch next to her. She kept her nose buried in the book, ignoring his gaze which was boring into her through the pages. 

Turning a page, she jumped again as a pair of large hands took up her feet. Wonderfully long and warm fingers spread out over the tops of Clara's feet as two strong thumbs slid up her arches. The book dropped slightly as Clara let her head fall back against the pillows behind her as, unbidden, a low moan escaped her throat.

"I thought your feet might hurt. Dancing in those completely impractical shoes," the Doctor explained as his fingers encircled Clara's toes, squeezing and pulling softly.

"I...uh, yeah," Clara groaned as the book fell to her chest. One of her hands moved back to comb through her hair. Her head turned and she let her forehead rest against her palm as she attempted not to squirm in the Doctor's grasp.

The Doctor directed a sly smile at her as he developed a rhythm on her feet. His fingers spread out and circled first over the heel and then the arch before he dragged them over the tops. He tugged at her feet, pulling them toward his chest as his thumbs traced her arches and the pads beneath her toes, "Better?" he asked.

Clara managed to bite back another groan, knowing full well what he was playing at. Taking up her book, she answered, "Mmm hmmm," from behind the safety of its pages.

Continuing the movement on her feet, slowly moving his fingers higher and up onto her ankles, the Doctor said conversationally, "Didn't know you liked Terellian poetry."

Clara rolled her eyes with pleasure behind the book, biting at her lower lip as the Doctor's hands encircled her ankles, his fingers sliding up her lower calves. "You gave it to me," she said with a slight breathy quality in her voice.

"I did?" the Doctor asked, his fingers kneading the backs of her calves thoughtfully.

"Well, not you, you, but...you," Clara blurted stupidly as the Doctor's hands found the backs of her knees before dragging his fingers slowly down, pressing into the muscles of her calves, once again encircling her ankles.

"Oh, him," the Doctor said simply as he dragged his thumbs down the arches of her feet once again.

"Can't very well," Clara gave in to a little squirm, brushing her feet over the Doctor's trouser clad thigh, "can't very well be jealous of yourself."

"I can if I like," he answered her, slightly sullen. "This is much easier when you're not wearing tights," he said as though this was a regular occurrence between them.

"I can imagine," Clara breathed as she read over the same line of poetry for the sixth time. 

"Stockings are alright," the Doctor continued as he moved his hands up Clara's legs, stopping mid-thigh. "They're easy to remove," he explained, mimicking rolling down a pair of stockings. He slid his warm hands down the inside of Clara's thighs, making small circles with the pads of his fingers. 

Clara was only able to answer with an, "Mmm hmmm." Anything else would have given her away completely. 

"So, is this flattering?" the Doctor asked as he bent over Clara's feet to plant small, warm, kisses on the tops of her feet and ankles.

Clara peeked over the top of her book. When her gaze met the hungry, wolf-like look of the Doctor's, she threw all pretense out the window and allowed the book to slip to the floor. The gasp that left Clara's slightly parted lips may not have been particularly articulate but it carried all the information that the Doctor needed.

His eyes narrowing, a large grin suffusing his face, the Doctor didn't break eye contact as he continued to lay kisses on Clara's bare legs. Turning on the couch, he situated himself between her feet continuing to kiss his way up to Clara's knee. It was necessary to push Clara's skirt up her thighs so that he could move even closer.

Grasping her knees, the Doctor moved up until he was flush with Clara's body, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his narrow hips. He took off his jacket, tossing it to the floor, before removing his jumper; it joined his jacket in a heap near the couch.

Clara ran her fingers over his chest and shoulders, a soft t-shirt the only barrier between her fingers and the Doctor's bare skin. 

He hummed with pleasure as Clara's fingers massaged his neck, her fingers moving up into his hair and tugging gently, pulling him to her. Their lips met in a soft kiss and Clara breathed against his lips, her tongue snaking out to encourage him to open to her. The Doctor slid his tongue into Clara's mouth as his fingers worked at the buttons of her blouse, opening it quickly and pulling it away from her body.

Moving up higher, his kiss becoming more insistent as he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, the Doctor slid his t-shirt clad torso against the bare skin of Clara's stomach. Clara whimpered with need as she moved her fingers under his shirt, brushing against his back. Her short nails scored the skin of his shoulder blades as her hips bucked against him.

The Doctor pushed back against her thrusts, the evidence of his arousal rubbing against the thin barrier of her knickers. His kiss became rougher, harder, as his hands settled on her breasts, squeezing gently, teasing her nipples to hard peaks beneath her bra.

Clara broke the kiss, panting with desire, she pushed him back and grasped the bottom of his t-shirt. Flinging it to the floor, Clara's arms encircled his bare torso, her legs wrapping more tightly around his hips. She placed a kiss on his bare shoulder, tracing his collar bone with her tongue as the Doctor pulled her blouse from her shoulders.

She heard his boots hit the floor as the Doctor toed them off followed by his socks. Reaching behind her, he found the zip on her skirt and pulled it down quickly, his fingers grasping at the waistband to assist the garments removal. He took a moment to rake his burning gaze over her, taking in her dark blue matching knickers and bra. Licking his lips slowly, he allowed his gaze to settle on Clara's panting mouth and too wide eyes.

He glanced down at his trousers, a silent invitation which Clara quickly followed by tugging at the fastener and zip. Using her thighs, her toes curling around the material, Clara pulled his trousers down and off. She wasn't entirely surprised to find that the Doctor wore nothing beneath them.

Reaching behind Clara to unclasp her bra, he tossed it over his shoulder before lowering his head to plant warm, open mouthed kisses on her breasts. Clara wrapped her legs around his bare hips and ground her knicker covered sex against him, moaning loudly as the Doctor took her nipple between his lips and teeth tugging gently. 

The Doctor's hands stroked the bare skin of Clara's stomach, running his long, skilled fingers up to the soft roundness of her breasts. He squeezed and stroked them while his mouth went back and forth between her nipples, leaving them wet, and hard, and aching from his attentions.

Threading her fingers into his hair, tugging gently, Clara groaned, "That feels amazing."

The Doctor let Clara's nipple slip from his mouth and nuzzled at the swell of her breasts, "I have a few thousand years worth of experience."

"But not in this body," Clara gasped; the realization sending a wave of desire straight to her core that had her grinding harder against him.

"True," he admitted, his brogue becoming thick and rough. He pulled her knickers down and away from her body. He moved away a bit so that he could slide them down her legs. Once the last barrier was out of the way, he grasped her bare feet once again, and slid his hands slowly up her calves and thighs until his fingers brushed at her sex softly.

Clara moaned and leaned back into the cushions. She could feel the Doctor's burning gaze on her naked body, his hands teasing her with soft brushes and touches. Suddenly, his touch was gone and Clara opened her eyes, looking down in time to see the Doctor lean over her sex, his mouth kissing the lips of her sex gently. She gave an inarticulate groan, reaching out to lay her hands on his bare shoulders. 

His tongue licking through her folds made Clara's toes curl, her heels digging in to the Doctor's lower back. He gripped the backs of her thighs, holding her steady, while he applied long, slow licks to her hot sex, his tongue dipping in to find her clit. Circling it slowly, one thumb moved down to slide inside of her.

The muscles of Clara's sex jumped and clamped down on his digit as he began to pump into her. Clara flung her head to the side, her fingers tugging at his hair to encourage him, and bit at the pillow. Her moans were loud enough that the material did little to muffle them. 

She could see the grin of triumph in the Doctor's gaze as he sucked her clit into this mouth with just enough pressure that she was suddenly seeing stars. With a loud groan, Clara made small thrusts against the Doctor's mouth, coming apart in waves that left her shaking beneath him.

He leaned back just far enough to reposition himself, dragging Clara further down on the couch. Her legs immediately wrapped around his hips once again as he pulled her to him for another rough kiss. Reaching between them, Clara wrapped her hand around the Doctor's hard shaft and helped guide him home. They moaned in unison as he thrust forward and filled her completely. 

Readjusting herself slightly to gain a better angle, Clara moved her hips to meet his thrusts. She sucked hard on the Doctor's tongue. Tasting herself in his mouth, doing her best to communicate her feelings for him through her kiss, Clara wrapped her arms tightly around his bare torso and held him to her.

The Doctor broke the kiss to pant several words in Gallifreyan. 

Clara smiled at the musical sound of his native language, "What does that...," and then she gasped loudly as the walls seemed to disappear and she was gazing directly at the stars around them.

The couch became an island suspended in the midst of a beautiful and vast universe. "Better than dead flowers or poetry," the Doctor smiled at her, obviously immensely proud of himself.

Grabbing handfuls of his hair, Clara pulled him to her, kissing him again, hard and urgent. Her arms and legs holding him as close as she was able as they rocked and moved together

Clara grasped him hard with the muscles of her sex while biting at his lower lips, her hands touching every inch of him that she could reach. She felt an intense wave of desire building inside of her, starting at her toes and moving upward. 

Sneaking a hand between them, Clara rubbed small circles around her clit. The motion, coupled with the fulness of the Doctor's thrusts, soon had her spiraling into another release. Her fingers intermittently rubbing against the base of his shaft, her hard nipples pressed against his bare torso, and her urgent kisses were the Doctor's undoing. With a loud bellow of pleasure, that was swallowed up by Clara's kiss, he gripped her bare ass in his two hands and thrust hard into her until he was left shaking against her.  
His head pillowed on Clara's breast, his arms wrapped tightly around her, Clara couldn't help but notice the extremely content smile that graced the Doctor's face.

A few more murmured words in Gallifreyan returned the TARDIS to its usual state. Clara grabbed an afghan that lay on the back of the small couch and shook it out so that it covered them both. Finally lifting his head from Clara's breast, the Doctor met her gaze and smiled.

"Quite proud of yourself," Clara observed.

The Doctor kissed the swell of Clara's breasts tenderly, "Mine," he stated.

"Is that a proposal of some kind?" Clara asked, laughing quietly.

"A statement of fact," the Doctor corrected her.


End file.
